This is why I didn’t want a Barbie. Before Grace batted her lashes at me and said, “I a pincess, I so bootafoo” and melted I my heart, we had a strict “No Barbies” rule around here and this is why. What is it about kids and Barbies? Why have I never, ever, seen a Barbie with clothes on once they’re unpackaged? They always end up like this–naked, hair frazzled, neck askew, laying someplace conspicuous but still nowhere you’re quite prepared for them to show up.
I never know where the crime scene will be, or when, but invariably it appears. No matter how many times I put Ariel’s fins and top back on, no matter how hard I try to fix her nappy, plastic hair — she always ends up showing back up like my own personal crime victim. It totally creeps me out. If I hadn’t caught Grace on the video monitor reading bedtime stories to her a couple of days ago, Ariel would be history.
I swear to Buddha, do not buy Grace a Ken doll — I can’t handle that.